My life as a green balloon

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I emerged into the light, flat and small, a dark green body with my life-hole almost closed. I lay

on the dark metal for a moment or two, wondering. Then I was moved into a large plastic

enclosure, hurled into contact with a dozen or so similar to me, but in different colours – blue,

red, yellow and white…and even a few green like me. It was strange and new. Life was fresh and

new – even though I felt constrained and unfinished, I couldn’t understand why.

After a while, we were all moved out of the light into a dark container which subsequently

became so dark that I could see none of my fellows, though I could hear some of them moving

and could not avoid touching my closest neighbours. A curious sensation – touching. I realise

that flat as I am, I cannot move of my own volition, only when some external force moves me or

whatever contains me. So touching is involuntary…a neutral sensation. When so many of us are

alike….and feel exactly alike in the pitch blackness….contact is curiously antiseptic. And though

it seems we can think, we are evidently unable to communicate with each other. Indeed, how I

would communicate is not apparent to me.

After a while – which felt as long as I could remember – we were moved again. Still in complete

darkness, we tumbled over each other, some – like me – pressed against the side of the plastic

enclosure. Then whirled away into a pile of us, almost entangled, but slipping away from each

other at the next sudden movement. I could not say it was enjoyable, but I became accustomed

to it.

Was this all there was to being? So far, things had happened to me suddenly and unexpectedly.

But as I didn’t know what to expect, perhaps unexpectedly is the wrong word….perhaps

randomly or inexplicably? Was there an explanation for what had been happening to me? For my

creation…or, at least, my awakening into consciousness? Would I ever know what it was?

Perhaps these things happening to me were explicable? But left unexplained, they appeared

random and inexplicable.

The movements became less sudden and jerky, but smoother, as though we were moving along

in a straight manner. Occasionally we tumbled up or down or moved more decorously to the

side, one way or another. In the darkness and through a length of time which seemed longer

than anything that had preceded it, it became confusing. It even felt as though we were rising

gently and then descending, but without falling into each other. It even seemed that our little

world was getting warmer. Was that because of the constant contact between us? Or something

outside this darkness which I couldn’t even guess at?

It seemed to me that the heat made me relax a little. Was it an illusion – or did I feel I had

extended myself slightly? In the utter darkness, I couldn’t tell, of course. How could I see myself

and my companions in the light, but not in the darkness? Perhaps darkness was just the loss of

my ability to see what was around me? It was all very strange. So many questions. Would I

discover any answers? I reckoned probably not. My awareness had suddenly come. I didn’t know

where from. Were those moments of brightness real – or an illusion? Was my world – whatever
that was – this darkness, with constant movement of different types and frequent, random

contact with my companions? Or was there something else?

How long might my consciousness last? Was I conscious at some time before I awakened, and

had forgotten? Or was that the first time I had woken? Was any of this real? Was it just a dream?

Was I the dreamer? Or was I the dream of something else I couldn’t possibly comprehend?

Perhaps it was better not to travel along that way. It seemed to me to lead to no answers, merely

confusion and unease. It was surely better to assume that what I was perceiving was real and that

I was experiencing it, whatever I was, whatever it was. Similarly, trying to understand what

consciousness was, compared to not being conscious, struck me as a way to nowhere.

But, a way to nowhere might be where I was travelling. It seemed this most recent form of

movement had been going on for most of my life…or, at any rate, my conscious life. Would it

continue indefinitely? Might I, in this presently conscious state, continue indefinitely? A

challenging thought, I realised. As long as I remained in this state of consciousness, I had no

reason to doubt that it might not continue indefinitely. But if it stopped, I wouldn’t know

anyway. I suspected that as my consciousness appeared out of nowhere, the chances were that it

would end in a similar fashion. But equally, I had no evidence to suggest that such things

occurred with any degree of symmetry. It might be over-simplistic to assume that what has a

beginning must have an end. Could you have a beginning without an end? Or more strangely,

could you have an end without a beginning? This speculation made the continuation of the

darkness, with its slowly changing movement alternating with suddenly being hurled around, less

monotonous.

Indeed, it seemed to make the time pass more rapidly. A strange notion that. If you don’t notice

time passing, it appears to go faster. Why should that be? But, I realised that if I concentrated on

the movement which affected me and the time it was taking, time seemed to pass more slowly.

But did it actually pass more slowly or rapidly depending on my state of mind? Or was that

merely my impression of it? Another puzzling question to which I could find no basis for a

satisfactory conclusion.

Another thing passed across my mind. Why was this happening to me? Why was I here at all?

Was my existence intended to have some purpose? If so, who or what had decided what this

purpose might be? Would I ever know what that purpose was? Was it doing what I was currently

doing…or more accurately what was being done to me, as I seemed to have no control over it?

Or was there something ahead of me I had yet to experience? Was I supposed to do something

myself? If so, would I know what it was? And how might I accomplish it? Even in this moving

darkness my world and my existence felt a lot more complex than I might have imagined.

Then something changed. We were flung sharply three or four times, then there was a high,

grating, screeching noise and the movement stopped. Everywhere seemed silent. It was only at

that point I realised that the movement had been accompanied by a constant noise, which had

suddenly ceased.

We continued immobile in the darkness and in silence for a while. It was a shorter time that the

movement. Was this where we would remain, how we would remain? It all seemed rather

pointless. But perhaps there was a purpose I was unable to comprehend. At any rate, it was a
different state of being and generally more pleasant, as my companions and I were not being

hurled against each other. On the other hand, it seemed to me it was getting warmer. Were

absence of movement, silence and getting warmer linked somehow? At present, that seemed

likely, but there might be other explanations I told myself.

After a while, I heard loud harsh noises and we were suddenly raised upwards, falling all over

each other as our plastic envelope hurtled towards the side of whatever contained us in the dark.

Various movements and rumbling and creaking noises followed. We continued to be hurled

from one place to another in a way that was almost uncomfortable. But after some time –

shorter than most other changed states I had experienced – we were immobile again. It remained

pitch black, but though I expected further movement to take place, nothing happened.

We rested in the positions where all the movement had left us. I was pressed against the wall of

our plastic container, slightly on one side, but mostly flat. Not moving was certainly more

comfortable than being tossed around, I concluded. But whether this was to be a permanent

state, how could I tell? So far my existence had consisted of periods of one thing and then

another. I wouldn’t know whether one was permanent or not until some change occurred.

Otherwise, I might believe that I had reached a permanent state, only for that to be subsequently

disproved.

At any rate, we remained in this state for a long time. Longer than any other stretch of time I

could recall. Occasionally I heard noises of various sorts beyond the darkness of our enclosure,

but naturally I had no conception of what they might relate to. But they did remind me that there

was something beyond the darkness of our container. Whether it, too, was dark or whether it

was bright, as I recalled from my very first moments of consciousness, I had no way of telling.

Perhaps I would discover that at some stage? Perhaps not.

This period lasted so long that I believe I stopped thinking much…or I suppose to be more

accurate, thoughts flowed through me for most of the time, but they were partial, ill-formed,

ephemeral, unconsidered, irrational and pointless. It was almost as though for that time thinking

didn’t fit me. It made me uneasy. I would’ve preferred to have thought nothing, been completely

still, rather than have this mass of whirling fragments hurling itself around my consciousness.

However, eventually it came to an end. We were raised up, and naturally started to fall all over

each other again, as we were moved, sometimes in quite a jerky manner, and placed down again.

Then noises with which I was familiar started and we began to move in that smooth way we had

previously, accompanied by a rumbling sound, which was occasionally interspersed with louder,

higher, sharper noises. As before, from time to time we were flung sideways, but with less force

than when the movement wasn’t accompanied by the rumbling sound.

This lasted for a shorter time than previously. Then what appeared to be a routine of noise,

sudden movement and being placed - still in the dark – on a firm surface in relative silence,

occurred. Would this sort of thing continue indefinitely? Was this what my existence was

intended to be? Or merely what it was going to be? How long would we remain in this current

state? Would my consciousness be assailed again by fragmentary thoughts and ideas? Or might I

understand – even though in utter blackness – what my purpose was and why I was where I was?
But we remained in this condition for a relatively short period of time, before suddenly our little

world was flooded with light. We were raised up, tumbling into each other, with several of my

companions lying on top of me, as I was pressed against the plastic skin of our container. Then

we were conveyed through the almost dazzling brightness to a static position on some flat

surface. Just as we were placed down, our container appeared to be shaken violently several

times. We hurtled up and down and from one side to the other. Afterwards we were still again.

The shaking had separated many of us and I found myself towards one side, partly on top of two

of my companions – one blue, one yellow. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Indeed, I realised that we’d

probably in positions of contact with our companions the whole time we were in darkness, but

had been unable to perceive it…or perhaps it had become so familiar, we had stopped noticing

after a while.

The light was harsh and bewildering at first. But after a while I got used to it. I noticed that its

intensity varied from time to time and it seemed to me that we were in a place which was a little

cooler than the dark contained where we’d spent most of our time hitherto. In some respects it

felt more pleasant. Even slight changes in the intensity of the light provided more interest than

the consistent and complete blackness I’d experienced previously. It also seemed to me that

within the light there was a movement of darker shapes and shades, sometimes…indeed

often….accompanied by a range of different sounds. Evidently in whatever was beyond my

plastic enclosure there was movement which occurred to other things. Up to now I’d only

experienced movement relating to myself.

The idea that other things might move…..and that there appeared to be other things beyond me

and my companions, was something of a revelation. I suppose I had never really thought about

it. I had assumed that when we moved, it had occurred in some automatic or perhaps even

random fashion. But now the possibility opened up that we might have been moved by

something. All this movement may have been intentional. We were where we were supposed to

be. We hadn’t ended up where we were through chance, but for a reason. Inevitably, I began to

puzzle over what this reason might be….as well as the nature of whatever had moved us,

perhaps intentionally, to where we were. And was this where we were intended to remain? Or

would we move again? Perhaps into some different light? Or back into darkness?

And what were the other things that moved? Plainly they couldn’t be things like us. We couldn’t

move ourselves, let alone move anything else. We were only able to move when something else

moved us. But these things could move…at least some of them. And who knows, might there

also be other things like us somewhere else, possibly sharing the same light as us? But in view of

my inability to move of my own accord, I would only discover something like that by accident, I

reckoned.

Then something extraordinary happened. A large dark shape covered up part of the light and

appeared to move something close to us. It didn’t affect us at all, but whatever was next to us

was certainly moved in some way, as I could detect that as well as hearing the sort of noises

which I now associated with things – including me and my companions – being moved. After a

short time, the dark shape receded and we were in the fullness of the light again.
This occurred again several times during the ensuing period. Unfortunately, the plastic of our

container wasn’t so clear that I could perceive what was going on through it. The movement to

and fro of this large dark shade was hazy, blurred. Invariably it was associated with something

near us being moved in some way, but the movement never affected us. Evidently, there was

movement which affected us and movement which did not. Inevitably this suggested a much

larger world beyond the confines of our enclosure, a world where different things could happen

at once. Some might affect us: but others would not. Would this large dark shade approach us at

some stage? It certainly didn’t appear in exactly the same place each time…or not as far as I

could recall. Perhaps there were other containers like ours close by? But, of course, it could be

something utterly different.

But “something utterly different” was to me as dark and hazy as the large shade itself. During my

existence I’d encountered only myself and my companions, who differed (where we did so) only

in colour, the plastic container where we had been originally placed, and the dark contained we

had moved around in….and which now appeared to have vanished. What something else might

look like was a complete mystery to me. I had no conception of what anything other that what

I’d encountered might be like. I’d tended to assume that anything else that was sentient in some

way was likely to resemble me and my companions. But I had no way of knowing whether that

was so or not. I doubted whether the container in which we were placed was sentient. But as I

couldn’t communicate with my companions, that might be an unwise assumption. Indeed, all I

could swear to was that I was sentient. As my companions and I were unable to communicate

with each other, it was always possible that they weren’t sentient. But on the whole, I felt I

should assume that as they appeared to resemble me in every other way – except colour – our

similarity extended to being sentient. However, as it appeared we couldn’t communicate, I’d

never know, of course.

This pattern of the dark shade occasionally moving across the light in different places continued

for a while longer. Then the bright light suddenly disappeared accompanied by a cracking sound

which I didn’t think I’d heard before. But to my surprise – and pleasure – it was not followed by

us being submerged in total darkness again. Instead, we were in a greyish half-light. I could make

out my companions and some dim shapes through the plastic of our container. But this dim light

appeared to have reduced our colours, which were now various shades of grey. I also noticed

that this half-light, as I decided to call it, seemed to bring with it an almost total silence. The large

dark shapes seemed to have disappeared also. Indeed, there appeared to me no movement at all,

just the occasional faint noise which seemed to be some way distant.

As time passed, I began to notice that the light had become darker. It developed slowly – so

gradually that I was barely aware of it. Indeed, it was only when a sharp flash of bright light

passed over me in an instant that I suddenly realised how dark it had got. I wondered whether it

would slowly turn into the pitch blackness which we had been in earlier. But for the next period

of time, though it got a little darker, it was more of a very dark grey – an almost bluish-grey –

than the darkness in which I could see absolutely nothing. And further flashes of bright yellow

or white light streaked over us and in the spaces around us from time to time. Often they were

accompanied by a far distant rumbling noise. But after a while, the lights and the noise ceased

completely.
We had been in this state for quite a while when I began to hear a strange sound. It was almost

noiseless, but left like something moving – though I couldn’t perceive any movement. So it

might just have been a sound which was made by something not moving. But so far in my

experience, noise had always been accompanied by movement of some sort. Perhaps, therefore,

it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. It was not quite like scraping, more a sort of very rapid

tapping…but not quite tapping – more like tapping mingled with swishing. Sometimes it grew

louder, while at other times it seemed further away. Also it appeared to change its height, going

up above us, below us and even level with us.

Then suddenly the noise came very close to us and a small dark shape – appreciably darker than

the rest of the light surrounding us – seemed to flash past us. It was most definitely moving -

and at some speed too. What it was I had no idea. Nothing in my experience had prepared me

for anything like that. I couldn’t even speculate as to what it might have been…..as it moved

rapidly away and shortly afterwards the sounds it made ceased too.

Plainly, it wasn’t an entity like me or my companions. This shape could move itself, presumably

going where it wished to go. I imagined that might be rather enjoyable, if perhaps worrying. Why

did the idea that it might be worrying come to me? I suppose the idea that one might go

somewhere which one didn’t understand or where one was unable to get out. I guess if I could

move myself I wouldn’t wish to be in a position where that ability was restricted or stopped

altogether. As it was, a touch of envy for this shape which could move itself came over me. Not

being at the mercy of movement which tumbled me around without me being able to do

anything about it seemed good. But who knows what I might discover if I was able to move on

my own? Though it might be better, I had to admit to myself that it could be worse. I knew

nothing of the space where the small shape moved about. It might be suitable for that shape, but

might prove extremely hazardous for me. Besides, as it seemed impossible that such a thing

might happen to me, it wasn’t worth thinking about….and certainly not worrying about.

After a very long time, I realised that the half-light was becoming lighter and more muffled

sounds could be heard in the distance. Gradually the light and the noise increased and eventually

the large dark shape appeared again, emerging from the brightness of the light and receding again

very much as before.

This continued for a while, until something extraordinary happened. The dark shape loomed up

over us and something darker seemed to protrude from it, apparently grasping our container and

raising us up high into the light. As we tumbled over each other, I could see nothing. But our

positions stabilised and I was fortunately again on top of many of my companions and at one

side of our container. In the brightness of the light, the dark shape seemed less dark grey, but

more a lightish brown.

But there was virtually no time to observe it before we were plunged downwards again into

something white and bright, which rustled and crackled noisily as we were apparently dropped

into it. On this occasion, I was less fortunate. I fell right in the middle of several of my

companions and was unable to see anything other than them. However, I could tell that we were

being moved again, through a white light and then into something darker. At first our movement

was jerky but also quite ponderous, accompanied by a variety of noises, none of which were
familiar to me. Then after a loud crashing, crunching sound, it seemed to become much darker

again and we moved in a more even manner, with a familiar rumbling sound.

After a fairly short while, the movement ceased along with the rumbling sound. The crashing

and crunching sound was repeated and we were again raised up into the light, falling against each

other. Somehow, I ended up pressed against the side of our container, able to perceive the light

and various blurred shapes. We were then placed down on something firm, with bright light

apparently quite close to us. Indeed, from what I could tell, there were several bright lights with

slightly less bright light between them. I began to wonder how long we might be in this situation,

but I quickly reminded myself that the only guidance my experience so far could give me was

that what might happened next was likely to be completely unpredictable.

Anyhow, we remained like that for a while. Then a dark shape loomed over us and there was a

tremendous scraping, ripping sound, and the top of our container was torn apart and some long,

thin dark shapes, which suddenly assumed a pinkish-brown hardness which smelled of

something completely different to anything else I’d ever encountered, thrust themselves into the

container and drew out one of my companions….coloured dark red.

As the dark shapes receded, they appeared to knock against the recently-made opening in our

container, making the container tilt sideways and then fall sideways. As had occurred previously,

whenever something violent happened to our container, we were all knocked into and all over

each other. However, because the container was now open, several of us were thrown out of it

on to a hard, brown surface which smelled strongly. But what the smell was, I had no idea.

And, indeed, I rapidly took little interest in my immediate surroundings. For the dark shape

suddenly appeared much more clearly. Evidently the walls of our container let through plenty of

light, but obscured what was in that light. But now I could see that the shapes were large and

extended high above me. The three or four I could see all resembled each other in having dark

on their very top, below which was a sort of greyish-pinkness, which was also at the end of their

limbs. Between that they were various colours, mostly bright.

But the much clearer sight of them was nothing compared to what I could see being done to my

crimson companion. One of these shapes had lifted it up and seemed to take its life hole into it.

Then followed a loud wheezing, swishing noise and to my amazement and horror, my crimson

companion started to swell, not just slightly but many, many times its original size. I couldn’t

begin to imagine how that must be feeling like for my crimson companion – now turned a shade

of bright red. Once it got to a certain point, an enormous size, circular and vast, the thin shapes

that came out from the body of the bigger shape seemed to take hold of its life hole – which for

no obvious reason appeared not to have swollen at all – and twisted it round and through itself,

so that the life hole wasn’t just blocked: it was secured with ferocity and in a manner that I could

not believe it could ever be opened again. A long thin strip of something that looked quite hard

was then tied across the life hole, presumably to make absolutely certain that my companion

couldn’t return to its former state. Then one of the protruding shapes grasped this thin strip and

pulled my companion away into the distance.
Almost immediately, the same thing began to happen to another of my companions, coloured

dark blue. As it expanded, it became lighter blue. I started to wonder whether this was going to

be done to all of us…and what it might feel like.

Then something truly awful happened. With tremendous shattering noise, my blue companion

seemed to burst in some horrendous explosion. A few tiny pieces of it shot through the air past

me and the remains - a limp dark blue, slightly wet lump – lay briefly on the surface where I and

my other companions were lying, before one of the long thin shapes appeared to sweep it away

out of our sight. Plainly, its existence was ended. Those pieces of dark blue substance were most

surely bereft of life. What a dreadful way to end one’s existence.

Another one of my companions – a yellow one – was the next to be taken up and began to

expand. I realised I was likely to be taken up after a couple more. Would I be expanded like the

crimson companion, spending my days in possibly an uncomfortable bloated state, doing who

knows what? Or would I follow the example of my blue companion and become almost

immediately a shattered, defunct wreck? What would that feel like? I could scarcely imagine the

agony and horror of the moment when my skin burst apart with that horrible shattering screech

and pieces of me exploded into the air. It was too terrifying to contemplate.

Yet it seemed to me that I had but a short time to reflect about it. And if that was all the time

that was vouchsafed to me, it was surely better to contemplate my end, rather than ignore it or

tell myself it wouldn’t, couldn’t happen to me. And though there was nothing I could do about

it, at least if I’d thought about what might happen to me, I might face it with greater

steadfastness and less timorous fear. Though plainly the moment when my existence ended was

likely to be extremely painful, it visibly happened extremely rapidly. Certainly, it seemed unlikely

that I’d feel any lingering pain or know what it was like to be a damp, wrinkled, shattered piece

of myself, with other pieces scattered far from me.

But was that all there was to it? To me? I realised that I could recall nothing before my

consciousness of my existence began, when I lay on that surface before being placed into what

not seemed the welcome safety of the plastic container. Had I been conscious before that, but

for some reason had forgotten about it? Had I appeared differently before then? Perhaps my

consciousness of my existence had only occurred when I assumed this particular form? When I

changed my form, might that consciousness cease? So, for instance, even if I survived this

immense expansion, would I lose my consciousness? I certainly hoped that if I burst and was

shattered that I lost my consciousness permanently. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my

existence looking back at what I had been like and what my life had been like then. For I

couldn’t believe that the shattered thing that had been almost swept away by the shape could

have any sort of tolerable existence.

And if being completely unconscious - as I had been before my consciousness appeared – was

my fate, it was perhaps a return to my natural state….with my brief span of conscious existence

being but a short interval in a lengthier period of unconsciousness…perhaps even non-existence.

Indeed, I began to ask myself whether what was happening, what been happening to me, was not

perhaps some illusion? A dream? Perhaps – though where this idea came from I do not know – I
was the dream of something else? Perhaps in a different reality, I didn’t exist? I was just the

flimsy and ethereal substance of another’s dream?

I wasn’t sure whether I found this comforting or disturbing. At any rate, it distracted me for a

while my yellow companion was expanded and tied up like the crimson one had been. But was

that sudden shattering which ended one’s existence preferable to living in a grossly bloated state,

with one’s life hole knotted and tied? I guess I would discover quite shortly one or the

other…but evidently not both. So I realised I’d never know. I could surmise to some

extent…especially if I survived the sudden expansion. But if I was shattered, plainly I’d know

nothing at all.

But now a shape took hold of another blue companion and began to expand it. I wondered

whether perhaps it was solely blue companions which burst, but this one became progressively

lighter blue, its life hole was tied up and the strip of thin hard material attached to it - all without

apparent mishap.

It was followed by my nearest companion – originally red, but as it was expanded, turning to

orange.

I realised it was inevitable that I would be next. Moreover, there was nothing I could do to

prevent it. I felt frozen, paralysed with the terror – not so much of the unknown, since I knew

what, of two alternatives, was about to happen to me – but of the uncertainty. Would this be a

brief space of time when I would be expanded in a manner which was bound to be strange and

probably uncomfortable, possibly painful and then embark on an existence entirely different

from what I was used to? Or would I be shattered into fragments and relapse into permanent

unconsciousness?

Two thin shapes gripped me. They carried me up what seemed a long way. Then they placed my

life hole into another, larger shape. Suddenly, there was a great rush of something through my

life hole and I could feel myself expanding. It felt curious. I had wondered whether it would feel

painful, but it was uncomfortable, strange, unnerving. It certainly didn’t hurt, but an almost

pleasant feeling of relaxing and filling out was inevitably accompanied by the fear that I might be

expanded too far or fast and would burst like my blue companion.

More and more of this slightly warm, damp substance was blown into me. I was already many

times my original size, becoming lighter green all the while. And as I grew, something weird

began to happen. I started to perceive things differently, understand more. The shape that was

forcing this substance into me resolved itself into a face – with eyes, nose and a mouth which

was blowing into my life hole….air, apparently. Evidently, as I expanded, my understanding and

knowledge expanded as well. The thing blowing into me, making me expand, was a person and I

was, so it seemed, the property of this person. I suppose that, having blown this change in my

life into me, the person felt it had a right to do with me as it wished.

But I also felt an extraordinary terror that just as I’d begun to understand the potentialities of my

expansion, I might burst before I’d ever had any chance to develop them. That would be a cruel

fate, indeed! Already lots of things began to pour into my consciousness – and what I could now
perceive…or, indeed, see – was unfolding in a picture of many objects that was truly

fascinating…..yet that might be all there was.

But then the person stopped breathing into me, twisted my life hole round on itself to prevent

the air from flowing out of me and then tied the thin, hard substance – string – around it

securely. Then, floating through the air – which appeared to be and yet not to be the same

substance that was inside me – I was led by my string to a table, as I now understood it was

called, where I lay next to me expanded companions. Regrettably, the expansion of my

understanding – and presumably theirs – appeared not to include any ability to communicate

with each other.

But at this moment I felt no need to communicate. I wished to come to terms with my new state

and my new ability to comprehend the world around me. I realised I could now see quite clearly.

There were four…no five…large people in the room along with a couple of much smaller ones.

It seemed that they could communicate with each other as they made noises to each other and

either exchanged these sounds or moved away and did something. It seemed a wonderful thing

to be able to do. I wished I could communicate with them, to see whether they could tell me

what my purpose was, what this place was, what they were. But I could discover no way of doing

so.

But on the other hand, in every other respect, the expansion seemed to have given me many new

attributes. After the uncomfortable strangeness of my expansion (coupled with the fear that I

might burst), I felt that my present state was the one I was meant to be. My previous state felt as

though it was a preparation for what I was like now. Though in some regards I felt more

vulnerable – not least to the possibility of bursting – what I had lost in terms of my greater

vulnerability was more than compensated for by my ability to see and comprehend so much

more. I recognised that I was no more master of my own fate than I had been before. But

whatever my fate was, at least I would see the world for what it was, rather than as a series of

movements and dim shapes and varying degrees of light.

More of my companions joined me on the table…though I also heard the ghastly sound of

another one bursting – a reminder, if one was needed, about the fragility of my existence.

Indeed, one of the things I began to understand was that, in my expanded state, my skin was

immeasurably thinner and hence more vulnerable. It was less that I would ever expand beyond

my present state. The people who had expanded me appeared to have set a limit on my level of

expansion. But with such a thin skin, I was plainly vulnerable to any sharp objects or,

conceivably, heavy pressure placed on me. But as I could do nothing about it, I remained where

I was, moving slightly in the currents of air as people moved around or opened or closed

windows and doors.

An effect of my expansion. I began to understand things like windows and doors. I wondered

how this had come about? Perhaps because my expansion had been achieved by one of these

people blowing into me, I had somehow acquired some of its knowledge of the world around

me from that air breathed inside me. I had started to comprehend what that invisible substance –

air – was. And I also realised that these people seemed to draw air into themselves and then

expel it. Perhaps it gave them life and comprehension too? Indeed, I wondered whether they
started their existence as something flat, rubbery and insignificant like I had been and some other

person blew into them and expanded them to their present shapes?

I would be quite interested to see that happen. But as they were so much bigger than me and

appeared to cover themselves in a variety of fabrics, including what I initially thought was a

fabric on their heads, perhaps their previous state was so large that they were expanded

somewhere else. And my new understanding revealed to me that what I thought was fabric on

their heads actually grew out from inside them – and was called hair. Indeed several of them

appeared to have this hair sprouting out from their faces….which I’d realised was where they

perceived or saw things, blew out air – both for themselves and when they expanded objects like

me – and also emitted noises of various sorts, which appeared to allow them to communicate.

I began to comprehend that each face was different. At first it seemed strange, unnecessary.

After all, apart from our colours my companions and I were indistinguishable and it seemed to

cause us no problems. But perhaps if they communicated with each other, they needed to look

different so that they were able to communicate with the correct person? I wondered what it

would feel like having a face and being able to communicate? Was it something people enjoyed?

Or did they only do it because they had to? Perhaps how they communicated set each one apart

too? The only thing now that differentiated me from my companions, apart from our original

colours, was the extent to which we’d been expanded – which showed up in subtle variations of

our colour. For instance, fairly close to me was a green companion who’d been expanded a little

less than me. He was, as a result, very slightly darker in colour.

Did the extent we were expanded also reflect our new powers of comprehension? Might it be

that the more we were expanded, the more we understood? So perhaps those who had burst

because they had been expanded too much had achieved the ultimate knowledge in those few

instants before they perished? Or perhaps it would have been too quick. After all, I realised my

perception didn’t expand immediately, but took a short while – certainly longer than my poor

companions had before they were shattered.

I decided to take my mind off uncomfortable thoughts like that. I had survived and I should

enjoy my new state and use it to learn as much as I could about the world I was existing in. I had

no idea how long this state might last and whether I might burst at any time. Thinking about it

wasn’t going to stop it happening. I might as well live for the day. There was no point

whatsoever spending whatever time might be left to me pursuing gloomy reflections and

shadowy fears.

I was just beginning to think positive thoughts about my circumstances when something rather

unsettling occurred. One of the people picked up a crimson companion and blew into it. When

he had reached about the same size as me, the person started to pull its life hole sideways very

sharply. Instantly a high-pitched screaming noise emerged, which the person manipulated in its

intensity and pitch by moving the life hole. It sounded as though my crimson companion was in

the direst agony. I found it hard to imagine what it must feel like. Though having the air blown

into one was unsettling, that was more because it was experienced for the first time. Otherwise I

would describe it as not unpleasant. But having it let out of one while having to undergo such
horrendous screaming noises through one’s life hole struck me as probably highly uncomfortable

at best, and quite possibly extremely painful.

My crimson companion, with the air all removed from it in this way, lay on the table, lifeless. It

hadn’t returned to its previous, original condition, but was slightly larger, slightly wrinkled and

baggy – as though its skin had been weakened and permanently expanded a little. However, it

had little time to get used to this situation as the person expanded it again and did the same

thing, letting the air out to the accompaniment of a series of wailing, shrieking noises. From what

I could see of the people around, this caused them to communicate loudly….something which I

eventually perceived was called laughter – the expression of great pleasure. How this was

affecting my crimson companion I could scarcely bear to contemplate. I just had to be grateful

that it hadn’t been done to me.

At any rate, after doing this six times, the crimson companion was finally expanded and tied up

as the rest of us had been. I wondered whether, as its comprehension expanded, it would recall

those dreadful experiences and whether it would have affected it in some manner. Might the

dreadful experience actually have expanded its comprehension more than the rest of us because

it had received some six times more air from the person? Or was the air within its body for such

a short time that it had no effect? But I’d never know….and decided it was probably better that

way.

But almost immediately something even more terrifying occurred. One of these people blew into

a red companion, expanding it as full as possible. Then it was let go, the air being released

forcing the red companion up into the air in a series of loops and jerks, until all the air had come

out of it and it flopped on to the ground. The people made loud noises, some high-pitched, as

this happened. It was then done four or five more times. Each time the red companion leapt

high into the air in an uncontrolled, unpredictable manner, accompanied by the sounds of the air

it was emitting from its life-hole, accompanied by these loud noises from the people. Finally it

was expanded and its life-hole tied up like the rest of us.

I wondered what it must have felt like. Though being expanded had felt strange, slightly

uncomfortable and worrying – that was mostly because it had never happened to me before and

I was – rightly in my opinion – concerned that I might explode. But it had happened only once.

What could it possibly feel like to be continually blown up and then the air released with such a

powerful force that one was hurled upwards into the air, not knowing where one was going or

where one might land? Though it seemed that my red companion suffered no damage…and

landing on the ground in its original state meant that it would certainly suffer no discomfort or

pain….what effect might that experience have on it? Would having air blown into it several

times mean that its appreciation of the world around it be greater than those of us who had

received air only once? But as the air was inside it for such a short time, I felt that was perhaps

unlikely. Especially as it occurred to me that I was comprehending more, the longer the breath

remained inside me.

But it did start me thinking about something which hadn’t occurred to me before. Was my

expansion permanent? Or was it inevitable that I would either burst and be shattered like those

companions who had been destroyed during the expansion process? Or might the air inside me
seep out over a period of time, leaving me eventually like my companions who’d been repeatedly

expanded and then had the air let out of them in that unpleasant fashion? Would my final state

be like them before they were expanded at last – a weakened, flabby, wrinkled, limp flat piece of

material, a distended and corrupt version of what I’d originally been and a deflated reminder of

what I’d been like when I was expanded? Would all that understanding which had come with

being inflated gradually disappear as the air seeped out of me? Would I retain the level of

consciousness I had before I was inflated? Would I retain more, some of what I’d known when I

was at my full extent? Or would I become a complete blank? And would I begin to realise I was

losing some of my ability to comprehend as the air started to come out of me? Or would I know

nothing until I was already a wrinkled fragment of my former state?

How quickly might I become deflated? Would it happen quite suddenly? Or over a longer period

of time, during which my comprehension might regress in stages? Would I get some warning of

this, for instance, if I could feel the air gradually draining out of me? Or might it be so slow and

in such minute quantities that I would be unable to tell – at least for quite a while? And if that

was accompanied by a simultaneous draining away of my faculties, might I not notice even then?

Evidently, in my moment of maximum expansion and – presumably – maximum

comprehension, the only possibilities for the future seemed to be worse than where I was now.

But then, I told myself, I had feared my expansion and now could see what advantages it had

brought me. I should perhaps not assume that whatever occurred to me in future was necessarily

bad…It might merely be different. Along with my expansion, I had gained knowledge, but I was

also acutely aware of my greater vulnerability. Perhaps deflated I might retain something of my

knowledge, but without that black shadow hanging over me?

At any rate, I didn’t have much time for such cogitations. Not long after all my companions had

been expanded, with but one – a yellow one – bursting, a dozen or so smaller people came into

the room, making a great, high-pitched noise. As I examined them, I realised they were smaller

likenesses of the larger people who had been expanding us. Possibly they were like me and my

companions, little now but would be expanded at some future time? However, my observation

of them indicated that they appeared to be made of the same stuff as the larger people, so I

began to doubt whether any increase in their size would be due to the same process we’d gone

through. Indeed, they struck me as being composed of a much more solid substance than we

were – not just more solid, but also a lot thicker.

These smaller people moved – or perhaps ran was a better word – around a lot, making lots of

high-pitched noises. From time to time one or more of them grabbed hold of one of my

companions and hit them in the air or used their lower limbs to push them along the ground. At

one point, one of them either trod on a green companion or perhaps pressed it against

something sharp, as it burst with the now familiar explosion of noise, accompanied by its body

being shredded into small pieces, with solely a part of the life hole remaining in a recognisable

state. At least it was a quick ending of its existence. And I couldn’t see how being shattered into

so many small pieces could possibly allow for any continuing existence, certainly not in any

sentient way. I certainly hoped so.
For that reason, I was grateful that none of these smaller people chose me to push, hit and kick

around. I had no idea whether the experience was enjoyable, terrifying or somewhere in between.

But I confess I had no strong desire to partake of it. If I could have moved myself out of their

sight, I would have done so. But, incapable of movement of my own accord, I had to remain

where I was and hope that their attention would be diverted on to others. A selfish desire, I

admit. But as this appeared to be quite possibly a genuine matter of life or death, I could see no

reason why I should wish for my death rather than that of companions, whose familiarity was

based entirely on proximity and not acquaintance.

After a while, the smaller people stopped doing anything with my companions and moved a

short distance away and appeared to lower themselves on to small hard surfaces and then began

to place substances into their heads. They seemed to have some sort of hole in their heads into

which they placed this stuff, to which they added liquids of various bright colours poured into

these holes using a container which they held in one of their upper limbs. Perhaps they used

things like this to expand themselves in the way we had been expanded by air? They must be

immensely heavy creatures, dense, solid. Though I realised I couldn’t fly through the air or

bounce along the ground of my own volition, when I did move it was with a great lightness and

freedom. Even before I was expanded, I had been light enough to be tossed around easily. These

people were the antithesis. I imagined that even moving a limb across the ground or through the

air must require great effort. And the enjoyment of floating – which I hoped I would experience

eventually – was utterly beyond them. But, I had to concede, they evidently were able to move

themselves – something which was beyond me. It also looked as though they could

communicate between each other, something which I had long ago realised was impossible for

me and my kind.

How they managed to do this; whether it related to them being solid; whether it related to what

they appeared to consume, I was naturally unable to tell. The thought occurred to me that if I

had been able to gain such an increase in my understanding of all that was around me just from s

few breaths from one of these people, how much greater must be the comprehension of those

who made those breaths?

But almost as soon as they finished this, a host of them came over to us, each one grasping one

of us by the string which was tied tightly round our knotted life-hole and pulled us away from

the hard surface where we had been resting and aloft into the air. Though I realised that I was

slightly heavier than the air which surrounded me, which meant that I had a tendency to sink

through it slowly, the small person holding the string moved forward at such a pace that I was

continually waft up into the air whenever I seemed to float downwards. Indeed, sometimes the

person pulled hard on the string, jerking me up further into the air.

It was a curious experience. I had never felt like this before. To an extent, it felt somewhat

precarious. The sudden pulling at my string and the subsequent bobbing around in the broad

expanse of the air was vaguely unsettling. Hitherto, I had always been placed on something solid.

It had given my existence a comfortable certainty. Generally speaking, I had known where I was.

But now I was supported – if that is the correct term, but probably isn’t – by apparent

nothingness. Though I could tell I couldn’t actually float in the air, the movement of the string

and across the room and out into the great bright world outside made it feel as though I was.
Not that I had much time to contemplate this. As I have just alluded, in a short time I left the

place I had been in – a solid place with dark walls, lights and windows – through a door and

entered a completely different, larger world. Above me was an immensity of brightness. In front

of me many people, other huge solid shapes which I felt were probably similar to that which I

had just exited, and solid things larger than people, often shiny with windows, which moved at

considerable speed, making loud noises. They reminded me a little of the vehicle that had

transported us from where we first entered existence. But I had only seen that from the inside.

Perhaps it had been like one of these things. I noticed that they seemed to have at least one

person inside. Perhaps they were being transported from one place to another just as we had

been.

Being both very solid and travelling at some considerable speed, they appeared somewhat

frightening. Fortunately, they kept themselves away from the people who were around me,

including the smaller one who was holding the end of my string. However, there were so many

people around me, moving at a fair speed themselves, it seemed impossible that they did not

collide with each other. But somehow they managed to avoid each other, though on a couple of

occasions I felt myself brush against one of the taller ones and once one of them flicked at me

with one of his digits. I felt a sharp jab in my skin, conscious that it was stretched and thin. For

an instant, I thought that I might burst, but to my relief nothing happened. I merely leapt

sideways and upwards – involuntarily, of course. And the sharp pain quickly subsided. But it

reminded me that in my present condition, I was very much more vulnerable to some sudden

accident like that which could – probably – end my existence.

Unfortunately, I had no idea how resilient my skin was in my present condition. I knew that

before I had been expanded that I was remarkably flexible and largely impervious to movement

– even to fairly sharp objects. But with all this air inside me, I really couldn’t tell. On the other

hand, it seemed that my consciousness about my surroundings continued to increase. I began to

be able to tell one person from another. Not just the small ones and the larger ones, but different

faces and fabrics with which they covered themselves. I could even hear the noises which they

expressed to each other – without understanding their import, naturally. But it was clear that

they communicated…and sometimes at some length. I even noticed some of them appearing to

enter one of the solid moving vehicles, which then set off with a roaring noise away into what

seemed like a stream of similar vehicles, and away out of sight. I wondered whether I might end

up being pulled into one of these strange things. I felt it might feel odd travelling in something

like that, but more pleasant, being able to experience the nature of the world I was passing

through, whereas previously it had happened in complete darkness.

We had been proceeding in this way for a while, when something quite unexpected occurred.

Another person evidently bumped into the small person who was holding my string, causing the

string to slip from its grasp. For a brief moment, I rose sharply, then gently into the air, then I

descended slowly towards the ground. As I moved downwards, I was even more conscious of

the number of people all around. It was also becoming evident I was getting quite close to the

thoroughfare where the machines moved speedily along. I bounced off a couple of people

during my descent, but none appeared interested in regaining control of my string. I thought I

could hear high-pitched howling noises from the direction where I had been, but I was now so

hemmed about by people, I was unable to see anything.
I landed on the ground. It was hard and covered in what my perception told me was dirt, dust

and a certain amount of rubbish, some of which smelt unpleasantly. I found myself in the

thoroughfare used by the fast-moving vehicles, but right at one side, close to the area where the

people who walked made their way about. Though my situation was far from welcome - or safe,

for that matter – it could probably have been worse. I could not be sure, but I felt that unless a

person trod hard on me deliberately, my skin seemed to have sufficient flexibility and the breath

inside me appeared to make me sufficiently buoyant to prevent me being burst, certainly by

accident. Similarly, it seemed to me that the fast-moving vehicles appeared to create some sort of

advance momentum, which seemed to swish me away from them if they raced past too close to

me.

Of course, in such a perilous situation, I had little time to reflect. But equally, there was nothing I

could do about my present circumstances. Indeed, it was a familiar story. From the moment I’d

first entered into existence…or, at least, consciousness of my existence….I had not been in

control of my life. So why should I expect ever to arrive at such a point? It seemed to me that I

was destined to a passive role in life, being done to, rather than doing. I would go where

someone or something else willed. I could do nothing to guarantee my survival….or even what

might happen to me next.

In any case, almost immediately, one of the large vehicles drove past, extremely close to me and

quite fast, sending me several inches in the air and a couple of feet along the road. I was not sure

at that moment whether coming to terms with my apparent purpose in life was immensely

comforting.

Almost instantly, a foot tapped at me, sending me back in the opposite direction – but

fortunately up against the kerb, rather than further into the middle of the road. A small person

then stepped off the road and kicked me again – but in the opposite direction. I can’t say that

being kicked was particularly pleasant, but the initial discomfort rapidly eased. Indeed, I was

more concerned to stay away from the large vehicles racing past, as they seemed considerably

more hazardous to my existence. A larger person evidently attempted to kick me in some

complicated manner as it seemed to leap from one leg to the other, twist round and then, in

attempting to tap me, fall over on to the pavement. I was surprised that the ground didn’t

shudder more as he landed. But I had no time to reflect further as an enormous vehicle came

past driving sufficiently fast to send me several feet up into the air and at least ten feet down the

street. For a few moments I could feel what being a free spirit might be like as I whirled through

the empty air, but landing again close to the gutter, I realised just how close I had been to my

existence being terminated. Perhaps the risk of sudden ending of my existence was the price I

would have to pay for such moments of exhilaration?

Various vehicles came past, swirling me along the road and several people of varying heights

kicked out at me. Some missed, some didn’t. A couple sent me dangerously closer to the centre

of the road, but whether it was the wind or whether these large vehicles – which had a space

roughly my size between them and the ground, apart from their wheels – sent some sort of

current of air in front of them, I escaped going under their wheels or being impaled on the side

of the vehicle.
Then a huge vehicle came along, swept me up into the air and deposited me right across the

pavement, in a shop doorway. Almost immediately, a small person grabbed hold of my string

and pulled me aloft. Was it the same small person who had let me go in the first place? I thought

not. At any rate, the small person conversed with some larger ones. This seemed to conclude

with my string being tied to one of the small person’s digits. But instead of then holding me aloft

and allowing me to glide freely through the air, the small person kept me under its arm,

presumably through some fear that I might escape of my own volition…or possibly that it would

let go of me, as the other small person had done. I was, as I suddenly realised, being kept safe.

Being kept safe suggested that I had some value in the eyes of this small person…and possibly

the larger ones too. It seemed a strange notion, as hitherto in my existence, I felt that I and my

now long lost and separated companions had been treated as though we had no value at all. I

supposed it was possible that as I had been the only one of my kind lying in the street, I had

acquired a temporary value, which would be lost when the people who now had me found

others like me. Or perhaps the small person holding me so tightly had a rival for possession of

me. Once his rival got interested in something else, perhaps their mutual interest in me might

decline. But whatever value I had now or might gain or lose in future, it felt quite

pleasant….now I had accustomed myself to it…being held securely. At least I was unlikely to

burst and I was now well clear of those rapid and solid vehicles and of peoples’ feet. I should be

thankful for small mercies, I told myself.

We continued in this way for quite some time. We went along several streets past buildings with

large windows which seemed well lit and with lots of objects in them. Occasionally we stopped

and the people stared into them. On one occasion, one of them went inside and came out with

some sort of package under its arm. I would have liked to have gone inside to see what it was

like. But the little person carrying me - and therefore I - remained outside. We then approached

one of the fast, solid machines. One of the larger people opened what was evidently a door and

others followed. The little person carrying me got in and sat down on a seat which smelled of

plastic. Then something familiar happened. The person in the front turned placed a small metal

object in a slot in the front of the vehicle and twisted it. The vehicle started to roar in a manner I

hadn’t heard since I and my companions were moved from where I first was conscious of my

existence. That was succeeded by similarly familiar noises as the vehicle moved forward and

began to pick up speed.

Being inside one of these things, rather than at their mercy lying in the street, seemed a vast

improvement in my circumstances. Though we moved too fast for me to see very much, I was

evidently safe and appeared to have become part of the world of these persons. Indeed, as their

breath percolated around me while I was in the car, my comprehension increased further. The

little person holding me was a child, a young version of the larger people. These were of two

sorts – a man, who had short hair, and a woman, who had long hair, whose eyes and lips seemed

to be covered in some sort of paint and who smelled strongly of something chemical…..

perfume, I realised. Naturally, the younger persons were also either men or women…called boys

and girls. It was one of the latter that continued to hold me tightly. She had long dark hair and

brown eyes, partly obscured by glass placed in front of them….spectacles – that’s what they were

called. They continued to talk amongst each other….But unfortunately my augmented
understanding didn’t extend to being able to comprehend what they were saying to each other. I

felt this was a pity as I would have liked to have known what they were talking about.

Though I could see little out of the window of the vehicle…car, as I now realised it was

called…I could see lots of other cars, larger vehicles…vans and buses…and frequently smaller

vehicles where a single individual sat on top, normally wearing a metal helmet, which weaved

around among the other vehicles, frequently making a loud hooting noise…..motor

scooters…that was what they were termed. From time to time, our car seemed to bounce around

quite a lot…I could only assume it was related to whatever surface we were driving on…as

sometimes it felt quite smooth. It also appeared that the ground we were travelling on rose and

fell, sometimes quite steeply.

I was beginning to wonder how long this journey might last, when suddenly we came to an

abrupt halt. Then the vehicle went in the opposite direction from that in which we’d been going

and stopped again. The doors to the vehicle were opened and, still securely tied to the little

person’s wrist, I was taken out into the open air. But only briefly. In front of us was a large

building, painted a dull ochre colour, with a dark green door and several windows and balconies

stretching up towards the sky. Almost immediately we went inside. It was gloomy and even when

the light was switched on, it just made the gloom appear a weak yellow. We went up a flight of

stairs and through another door, which was closed behind us.

Inside, once the lights had been switched on, it was much brighter – an almost white light. My

string was untied from the small person’s wrist and then removed from round my life hole, and

the little girl and one of similar size tapped me up into the air between themselves for a short

time, then let me settle on the floor, by a large wooden object. Meanwhile someone had switched

on some kind of apparatus which showed pictures and people talking and some running around.

Indeed, some of those running around appeared to be chasing after an object broadly the same

shape and size as me. But when they caught up with it, they seemed to give it a hard kick with

their feet. So I felt grateful that I was lying on this carpet. Being ignored was greatly preferable to

that.

The carpet was plain, a plain dark blue, and smelt of some substance which I hadn’t encountered

before. I expected that I would be there for only a short while, but after a time, all the people

moved away from that part of the building into another, turning off the apparatus which they

had apparently been observing. I could hear various sounds and more conversation, but I was

unable to see anything. After another fairly short period of time, the larger people returned and

switched the apparatus on again, appearing to watch it keenly for a while. Then they switched it

off again, rose from their seats and disappeared whence they, along with the smaller people, had

gone previously. As they departed, one of them bent over me and pressed a switch above my

head. At that point all the lights went out.

I was left in the dark. Though, as I almost immediately became accustomed to the darkness, it

was lighter than it had seemed at first. Though some kind of hard material covered the windows,

light appeared through the slats and round the sides. I imagined this might well come from lights

in the street outside. I could hear noises in the street outside – both vehicles coming past and the

voices of people…some possibly emanating from apparatuses like the one the people who had
brought me here had been observing earlier. As time passed, these noises lessened until there

were virtually nothing coming from outside the building. Inside, there were constant reminders

of various contraptions which hummed and buzzed and occasionally squeaked. From time to

time, I reckoned one of the people emerged from wherever they had gone and caused various

different-sounding flows of water, from a gently tinkling to a sudden thud followed by a great

gushing sound. All this was accompanied by a distant rumbling sound, which appeared to be

associated with one or more of the people dwelling in this place.

Eventually, the yellow artificial light outside was replaced by the dawning of a new day, creeping

almost unnoticed through the slats of the window-coverings. After a while, people started to

appear, one of whom opened the window covering by pulling on a string somewhat like mine.

Noises of more contraptions could be heard, including one gurgling and spluttering. One person

switched on an apparatus which made lots of noises, some sounding like the people when they

conversed together. Indeed, for quite a time, there was much movement about the room, with

people – both large and small – coming and going. But quite soon, the various contraptions were

switched off and all the people departed from the door whence we had all come in.

I was left unnoticed, to contemplate a quiet day. I realised – to my surprise and discomfort – that

I was a tiny bit smaller than I had been the previous day. My skin was marginally less taut. What

did this portend? Would I continue to deflate in this way until I returned to my previous state,

but perhaps with my skin a little baggier than when I was in pristine condition? Might these

people attempt to reinflate me? Would that be more or less hazardous than when I was first

inflated? What effect would this have on my understanding of the world around me? But, as I

reminded myself, I had no control over what happened, so I might as well adopt a Stoic

approach…..and wonder where that idea came from?

The odd thing was – I couldn’t actually feel any air coming out of me. I decided it must seep out

so gradually that it was unnoticeable. Indeed, I spent some time during this mostly silent, calm

day trying to see whether I could feel anything. But after a while I confirmed that I felt nothing.

Over several hours I could tell I was minimally smaller – but the diminution was imperceptible

as it occurred.

I wasn’t sure whether the long hours of daylight when nothing happened, other than a few

noises of electrical gadgets muttering and what appeared to be the normal creaking coming from

the walls and floor, was better than a day like the previous one, perhaps too full of activity. Since

I had no idea how long I might remain in my present state, including how long my currently

heightened sense of perception might last, was it better that I should experience as much activity

as possible…or would a few quiet days like this ensure that my existence lasted longer? But if at

some point my ability to perceive anything vanished – possibly through my skin being burst or

just because eventually I returned to something like my original state – would it really matter? In

such a state I expected that I would be unable to have any memory of what had happened to me.

Indeed, I would presumably be as inert as I was before that first dawning of consciousness when

I was still unexpanded.

Besides, as I kept reminding myself, there was nothing I could do about it. And whether my loss

of perception and return to a state of unconsciousness was rapid or took place through a slow
decline, the end was the same – and neither route seemed significantly more appealing than the

other. And I would have no choice about that either!

As the sky outside began to darken, the door opened and people – both big and small -

returned. None of them appeared to notice me. Indeed, they went about similar activities which

they had the previous evening, ignoring me completely.

I was getting accustomed to this, when a loud, sharp, shrill electric noise shrieked from by the

door. A minute or so later, another person arrived, along with a much smaller creature covered

in black hair of some sort. It walked on four legs, whereas all the people walked on two.

Moreover, it was extremely smelly, unlike them. It appeared not to speak, but emitted whining

and snuffling sounds. It moved quite rapidly round the room on its short legs. At one stage it

came up to me, thrust a black, leathery, wet and rather smelly nose against my skin, snuffled a bit

and then retreated, leaving a damp and ponging patch of wetness on my skin. Some of the

people called out and it went over to them. Did it understand the conversation which they were

having between each other? Did it understand some things, but not others? Or did it just get

some sense of the tone of the voices – which was all I could achieve?

Fortunately, the wetness dried after a few minutes and the smell seemed to dissipate too. I

supposed I should be thankful for small mercies that it was just a stinking nose rather than

something sharper that had been thrust against me. And it seemed that the creature had lost any

interest in me, as it didn’t come near me all the rest of the time it was in the room. That did not

bother me in the slightest! Indeed, given the choice, I’d be perfectly happy if a creature like that

never came anywhere near me again.

The night that followed was similar to the last. I could still myself subsiding at an almost

infinitesimal pace. The people did largely what they had done the previous night and not long

after the smelly creature had departed through the front door, they all went off to other parts of

the apartment, made various noises – some of which appeared to include running water – and

then were mostly silent, expect for some loud snorting noises from somewhere towards the rear

of the apartment.

It was only at dawn when something different – and vastly more alarming – occurred. Somehow

a furry creature a little large than me had insinuated itself into the apartment. I was unaware how

it had done this, as the door had not been opened. I thought I heard the sound of a window or

perhaps another door being opened at the back. It felt as though it had opened to the outside, as

my skin was sufficiently sensitive to detect a slight flow of cooler, fresher air from outside. The

furry creature made its way slowly round the room, appearing very much as though it owned the

place. Yet it was less than a tenth the size of the people who I’d seen previously. Indeed, a

couple of the bigger people and one of the smaller ones picked the furry creature up and spoke

to it. Others ran their hands along its back and over the top of its head. It made a light, rumbling

sound. Otherwise it was silent or made a long controlled squeal.

So far it seemed an innocuous beast. Certainly it didn’t smell like the one that had accosted me

the previous evening. Nor did it thrust a damp, stinking nose against my skin. But when it

deigned to notice me, I could tell at once that its yellow-green eyes seemed to glow with

malevolent pleasure. It raised one of its arms and tapped at me. The end of the arm – the paw –
felt quite firm, but soft. However, at the edges I could detect several very sharp things. If one

caught on my skin, I had little doubt that I would burst. For the time being, the creature seemed

content to just tap me gently and watch me move ever so slightly – albeit involuntarily – in

response.

But after a while, it appeared to grow tired of this and from the edges of its paw, the sharp things

emerged, not very long, but thin, curved, slightly shiny and extremely sharp. It tapped at me

again with its paw – this time with these claws digging slightly into my skin, pressing it inwards,

but – to my profound relief – making no incision. I was utterly convinced that was its purpose.

However, it retracted its paw and raised it again, as if to strike harder a second time. At that

moment, one of the smaller people seemed to grab hold of it, raise it up into the air and carry it

away from me.

I shuddered and lay as still as I could manage. I had been convinced my final moments were

upon me. But now I had a reprieve – though for how long, I couldn’t say. Presumably the furry

creature might be back at any moment….and I might not be so fortunate a second time. Indeed,

it seemed almost inconceivable that one of those needle-like claws wouldn’t puncture me if the

creature got near me again. But I felt again that slight current of cooler air from outside and

hoped that the furry beast had been despatched back to whatever place of cruelty and infamy it

inhabited.

I relaxed – conscious that unless someone undertook the hazardous task of undoing my knot

and refilling me with this precious breath, continuing relaxation was my fate. And I still had no

firm feeling as to whether my skin would stand a further inflation.

At any rate, that day passed much as the previous ones. I realised that I was deflating extremely

slowly, but I was unable to tell whether I was unable to understand as much, whether I might

have forgotten things I knew previously, or perhaps whether my ability to comprehend things

that occurred in future might now be less. One of the problems of very gradual – almost

imperceptible – change over a period of time is that everything becomes increasingly slightly less

clear, more open to doubt and uncertainty. Indeed, the only crumb of comfort I took from this

process was that as my skin became less taut, it would be more difficult for the furry creature

with those exceedingly sharp claws to puncture me.

But as it happened, I did not need to fear the furry creature. Later in the day, the large being

accompanied by the smaller ones reappeared. One of the smaller ones noticed me and began to

propel me around the room, using both its hands and feet. (I was pleased that - all the time I was

moving uncontrollably through the air, along the ground or bumping into various items of

furniture – I was able to recall to mind my knowledge of things like hands and feet). This lasted

for a fairly short time and I was left on a flat surface close to a window which looked out over a

street. I could see those large machines, which had so nearly ended by life when I was lying in

the street previously, thundering noisily past at some distance below me. After a while lights

suddenly turned on below me and the sky became dark. I began to notice that the plain glass in

the windows was becoming complicated by lots of tiny shards of what seemed like some similar

substance. But I quickly realised that these dots were in fact some form of liquid, as they rapidly
coalesced and slid gently down the glass, forming tiny rivulets at the bottom, running off on to

the stone window ledge below.

I started to experience sensations of coldness. I had to assume that my proximity to the

glass…..window, as I believe it was designated….somehow brought me into contact with some

chillier part of the world. It might be that because you could see through the glass, the cold of

the world outside the building permeated more easily than through the solid walls.

However, it did not have the chance to speculate for long. The large beings made sounds and

one of the smaller ones approached. But then pushed the glass upwards and thrust me through

it, closing it behind me. I could just make out a sort of swishing and rattling sound behind me as

I wafted into the cold night air, borne aloft on a breeze that was both icy and full of tiny darts of

sharp liquid….rain, as I seemed to understand.

Though this rain prickled my skin, I suddenly felt better than I had ever done in my life. I felt

free from threats of bursting or being squashed. I was in my element, floating, occasionally borne

further into the air by swirling currents of breeze. Surely, this was what I had been born to do!

Though I could not direct where I was going, of course, it felt as though I was going exactly

where I wanted to. Light as the air, I was unconstrained. I could barely see the streets and

buildings, roofs and balconies below me and the street lights shone dimly in the distance. A

couple of large birds – one mostly white, one mostly grey – flew past me, slightly below me,

indeed!

Above me were clouds, but somehow they appeared quite light and bright, even though it was

night. Between them, I could make out a large misshapen orb shining as bright as any streetlamp.

And, as I swirled around, high in the air, revelling in my freedom, I also saw between the clouds

tiny pin-points of light – some moderately bright, some barely distinct. Some were even flashing.

High above me I heard the roar of some huge engine and a dark shape, illuminated only by some

bright white, yellow and red lights, tore past me, rumbling in a threatening manner as it went.

Indeed, I felt as though it had disturbed the air, as I felt buffeted and dragged along for several

minutes after it had passed overhead.

The wind and the rumbling monster that had passed over head had been taking me in a direction

well away from where I had been. Below me I could see fewer lights and buildings. The ground

was dark and covered with many dark masses of things I did not recognise. But it seemed that

my all too brief sojourn in the heavens was slowly coming to an end. The breeze ceased and I

began to descend gently towards this darkness. A couple of smaller birds flew past me, but took

no interest in me. I was relieved by that, as both appeared to have sharp beaks and any interest

they might have shown could well have resulted in my skin being punctured.

As I moved closer to the ground, I could see several long lines of lights with many vehicles

shooting along between them, some trees in a dark space almost in front of me and a tall greyish-

white pointed building just to the right of them. Gradually I descended, occasionally buffeted by

gusts of wind back aloft, until eventually I settled in the branch of a tall tree, with dark spines

rather than leaves. It was refreshing cool and being still for a while suited my mood. Though

whirling through the air, feeling as though I might even touch the clouds, was exhilarating for a

short while, it was so unexpected and unforeseen that I confess I had found it slightly alarming.
Also, though it had felt from time to time as though I was in my element, I also appreciated that

I was being borne up by gusts of wind and currents of air and, though I shared that air outside

my skin with that within, overall, I was marginally heavier. I felt that if I did return to the ground,

it would not have been sudden, but as I descended I had visions of being drawn toward some

heavy moving vehicle or even some sharp point, either of which would have ended my existence

permanently.

Where I was now seemed quiet, apart from the rumbling of the vehicles on the road some

distance from me – along with the sharp blasts from their horns, the screaming of their brakes

and the shrill wails of blue or white vehicles which sped past faster than the rest. Indeed, what I

could see and my conceptions of it pleasantly confirmed for me that my understanding of the

world around me continued to expand. Perhaps that tremendous flight through the air had

extended my consciousness in some way.

I realised that I was only slightly wedged in the fork of a branch of this tree. It would not take

much of a breeze to dislodge me. But for the moment, the wind was gentle and pleasantly cool. I

suspected that I was more likely to survive longer when the temperature on my skin was

relatively cool. If it got too hot, not only would I feel debilitated, in pain, distraught and

confused, it was more likely that my skin might burst, as I recalled happening to my similar when

I first drew breath, so to speak. Unfortunately, I had no experience of the direct heat of the day.

I understood somehow that from the moon and stars in the sky and the ambient darkness, that

this was night. It felt pleasant. Not too cold, restful.

Or at least, so I thought, at first. Then I began to notice small movements, faint noises, the

fluttering of wings, the scurrying of what could only be small animals – both at the bottom of

the tress and in its branches. Even branches near me. Though none approached me, the constant

small movement was disconcerting. After a while I could detect several large black birds, with

long, sharp beaks in the branches around me, two were on the very branches where I was

presently wedged. It would take but an instant, if they were to investigate my presence, for one

of those beaks to despatch me to eternity. Fortunately, I appeared to be of no interest to them.

In any case, these birds were mostly somnolent, their movements and twitching occurring while

they slept or drowsed.

A couple of times I saw small furry creatures, which looked like a mixture of bird and mouse,

flew past. They appeared to skim the large whiteish-grey pyramid which loomed over the trees

where I was. What its purpose was seemed unclear. Unlike all the other buildings I had seen, it

appeared to have no doors or windows – though I supposed it was possible there were some on

the other side which I was unable to see. It felt very cold, very still and very old. But whether

what I was detecting was in any way an accurate reflection of its nature, I had no way of

knowing.

After what seemed an immense stretch of time, I began to notice that the sky was becoming

lighter in the east. Around me, the birds started to awaken, croaking loudly among themselves,

hopping and flapping from one branch to another. Then, one after another, they set off out of

the trees, cawing loudly to each other, before disappearing from my sight in different directions.

At the same time, the noise of the motor vehicles started up, reminding me that I had enjoyed
several hours’ respite. Below me, the world was coming to life. I could hear the rumbling of

trams, the sirens of the emergency vehicles, the rattling of lorries and the swish of cars. I could

even hear the voices of people, borne upwards in the breeze – the deeper voices of the larger

ones, the high squeaks and screams of the smaller ones.

I wondered how long I might remain where I was. Though I had not descended into the tree

with much force, I seemed to be firmly wedged. Perhaps if the continuing slight escape of air

persisted long enough, I would be blown free by a gust of air? However, for now, I was content

to be where I was. I felt safer than anywhere else I had been for as long as I could recall.

Moreover, once I had got used to the hubbub around me, I realised that it was not directly

beneath me and I could allow it to move away into the background of my thoughts. Below me, it

remained still and, shaded by the trees and the huge whiteish-grey building, quite dark. Among

the grass and small bushes there seemed to be many stone squares, like paving stones but larger

and longer, often upright, set out in a regular pattern. I noticed with a frisson of fear that several

cats were making their way amongst them. But none appeared to be inclined to climb any of the

trees. One or two people appeared, several of whom put food on the ground for the cats. That

struck me as a good thing: there would be no reason for the cats to climb any of the trees in

search of sustenance.

After some time, I began to perceive that the wind had freshened and I could see drops of rain

falling between the trees, though their leaves appeared to prevent any rain falling on me. Some of

the people raised large round plastic cloths above their heads, others sheltered under the trees.

Indeed, a couple of large people with two smaller ones stood beneath me for a while.

Unfortunately, one of the smaller ones noticed me and the two of them began to throw objects

in my direction. From what I could see, they appeared to be the same as the small, rounded and

somewhat knobbly objects that were attached to the branches surrounding me. I was uncertain if

one of these things hit me whether I would be damaged or feel pain, but it rapidly transpired that

they could not reach me. To my pleasure, one bounced off a branch and fell to earth, hitting one

of the children on the head. It squealed and whimpered. So perhaps had I been struck, I might

well have been hurt. I fear I experienced pleasure at someone else’s pain. There was probably a

word for it – but nothing permeated my consciousness.

I remained in the tree for several days and nights. Indeed, I became quite accustomed to the life,

the rhythm of night and day, the different noises, the birds coming and going. Though it might

lack the incidents of my earlier life, I was perfectly content to avoid the dangers of that existence.

Whether this was where I was supposed to be, I knew not. But it suited me fine. From time to

time, I asked myself whether this was what the remainder of my life would be like. I realised that

infinitesimally slowly, the breath was seeping out from my body. But there was nothing I could

do about it. So far, it did not appear to have affected my comprehension of the world around me

or my ability to cogitate. But I had to acknowledge that my understanding no longer appeared to

be progressing. Was this the plateau, after which my ability to comprehend the world would

begin to decline? Where might that lead? To a troubling lack of understanding? A gathering fear

of the unknown? The appearance and sudden disappearance of random thoughts and

perceptions? Or a gradual subsidence into utter incomprehension and then nothingness?
As ever, I was not master of my own fate. Though I might be gently subsiding, at least I

appeared to be secure from the sudden shock of a pointed object or the heavy force of the wheel

of a vehicle or the harsh tread of a foot. Even the birds seemed to have accepted me. No longer

did they approach me quizzically and point their beaks at me – fortunately without touching me.

Instead, they ignored me. It appeared that I had become part of their world, high up in the trees

and sky. An unimportant part, that is true. But whenever I had seemed to be an object of the

interest of others, that seemed to have maximised the risks to my continued existence. Being

ignored and of no importance seemed infinitely preferable. Perhaps that was the most important

thing I had learnt during my short existence – that being the object of others’ attention was more

worrying, dangerous and less fulfilling than being myself, out of the limelight, in solitude, among

those who took little or no interest in me.

I had discovered long ago that there was no possibility of communicating with my own kind.

While we could sense the world around us and apparently absorb information about its nature

through our skins, we were completely unable to make our thoughts understood by anyone else.

Of course, that did not just comprise my own kind, but every other animate object which I had

encountered. I felt this was a shame, as I would wished to have known whether my own kind felt

and thought like me, what their experiences were, whether being inflated more or less, or

perhaps at different rates, had changed their ability to perceive and understand. But I would

never know. Though we might be jumbled together at the commencement of our existence and

perhaps even gathered together after we had been inflated, we remained solitary beings. And

being a solitary being, solitude suited me fine.

Except, the realisation began to dawn on me that as I subsided ever so gently, I was gradually

becoming less secure in the branches where I was presently ensconced. Sooner or later, I would

have shrunk sufficiently for a breeze to blow me away into the air and whither, who could tell? I

wondered whether I would feel as much in my element in the air as I had when I had flown so

high previously? I felt slightly heavier, my skin marginally thicker. Perhaps I was becoming less at

risk from sharp objects? But at the expense of being unable to float, seemingly effortlessly, in the

breeze? And again, I asked myself what effect this might have on my ability to perceive and

reflect?

But the process took several more days. By the second of these days, I realised I was free from

the constraint of the branches, but as there was but a light breeze or none, I remained where I

was. I had become accustomed to this existence and though it might seem dull to some, felt all

the sweeter as the awareness grew on me that it was shortly to end. If the alternatives are more

exciting and interesting, but with a significant risk of one’s existence being terminated, there is

much to be said for a dull, quiet life. I suspected that once I left my perch in this tree, my life was

likely to return to its previous perilous state. This tree was the closest thing to a home that I

could expect and departing from it would be a wrench.

And – no truer word than wrench! Several days later, a wild storm approached, with thunder,

lightning and torrential rain – accompanied by a swift breeze. For a while the wind blew from a

direction which pushed me back against my friendly branches, but after an hour or so, it

switched direction and flipped me away from the branch. Then it suddenly stopped for a
moment and the rain bore me almost directly downwards until I reached ground, almost at the

foot of the tree which I had regarded as home.

The ground was a mixture of paths made of pebbles, around stone and concrete objects of

mostly regular shapes, surrounded mostly by grass. From time to time, a gust of wind whisked

me a few feet upwards into the air and a couple of times I bumped into one of the stone shapes.

But mostly I was pressed down by the force of the rain. Though it felt strange at first, after a

while I got used to it and found it almost refreshing, but occasionally it felt sharp or even

ticklish.

Eventually, it stopped and I began to dry out. I had landed in a patch of grass, partly wedged

against a small shrub, next to one of these stone shapes. During the day, several birds, a couple

of small people and – horror of horrors – one of the small furry creatures with claws inspected

me, but thankfully, left me alone.

I quickly realised the reason why. The air was definitely escaping from me faster than it had

previously. I could even feel my skin beginning to thicken. How long it would take before all the

air was gone, I could not tell. But I suspected it was a matter of days.

However, something strange and even miraculous seemed to occur as my inner breath passed

away from me. The less there was inside me, the more I seemed to understand. Instead of

providing a barrier to comprehension, my thicker skin and increasingly concentrated air within

seemed to encourage even more. I realised that the towering white pointed building of which I

could now see but part of one side, was a huge pyramid, copied from a land far away, across the

sea. The stone objects which were all around me were memorials to people who had died. In

many cases, the remnants of their bodies had been buried under the ground, under these stone

memorials. There were people from many different countries – German, English, French,

Russian, Scottish, American and even some native Italians. People would come from time to

time and look at some of them. I could even tell when some of them appreciated, even deeply

appreciated, several of these memorials, while in other cases, they regarded them with mute

incomprehension. They had been buried outside the walls of the city because they did not

believe the same things as those who had been interred within.

But this was nothing to what poured into my consciousness. I began to understand what was

going on in the minds of the birds that flew around me. The little birds energetically, almost

desperately, seeking food while fiercely defending what they considered to be their territory. The

crows and rooks, less territorial, but fiercer in snatching the tiny or dead creatures which were

their prey. The millions of insets – mostly tiny, flying and crawling – without apparently an

individual thought, but the common thoughts of the collective. The stalking cat – only ever

interested in something like me if it had been taught to play that way – in search of mice or frogs

to chase and kill….and sometimes devour. The large slobbering dogs, confused between their

attraction and loyalty to other canines, while following the thousands of years of training to

worship and obey humans. The feral pigeons, chasing after scraps with a bravery which ignored

the horrendous risks. The seagulls, winging their way overhead, with keen eyes and a pitiless

mind searching for prey. Butterflies and moths, forgetful of their lives as a chrysalis, rejoicing in

the freedom of the air, without even realising it. Slugs and snails, persevering, disregarded and
slow – with minds that focused almost wholly on getting to food and eating it. Swallows and

swifts and their familiars – bats – whizzing through the sky at speeds almost faster than they

could think, gathering up their insect food, almost by chance.

And then there were the people. The little ones, I now realised, were merely the young of the

larger ones. Brains of such complexity – with such abilities, such capacity – not least for the

abstract thought which eluded all other creatures. No crow wondered why it was where it was

and why it carried out its life as it did. No cat bothered about its death. (Nor did it even

contemplate the idea that it had nine lives!) No butterfly could appreciate the beauty of flowers

or their scent. No animals could create things of beauty – from buildings to tiny miniature

paintings, from symphonies to plays and poetry – deliberately. None could even try to seek to

understand the world - from the structure of flowers and trees to the movement of the skies, the

nature of the earth, the nature of sub-atomic particles. None could posit the idea of a god, of

reason, of science and the scientific method, of the nature of thought, of the concepts of good

and evil, of right and wrong, of balance and justice, of faith and belief, of scepticism and even

cynicism. But I sensed within these wonderful minds both a light and a darkness. None could

entirely escape from being in the body it occupied. That was a boundary between the individual

and everything else – just as my green, thickening skin was what kept this precious air from

escaping and leaving me lifeless. Yet this boundary inserted an element into this marvellous brain

which inevitably contorted it.

This partly reflected what the person perceived as their consciousness developed. Just like me in

my earliest time, their consciousness was barely developed, receiving sensations, rather than

being able to comprehend them. But soon, like me, each one developed a consciousness of self.

And for almost all it seemed, that became the most important principle of their lives. Capable of

self-sacrificing love, they were also capable of utter, inhumane and barbaric violence to their own

kind and to other creatures. Capable of seeking and discovering the most profound truths, they

were also capable of the basest and most damaging lies. They could ask themselves the most

penetrating and even self-lacerating questions, while also sheltering behind a self-serving wall of

deceit, often described as ‘belief’. Most of all, this armour of self enabled them to ignore and

forget the most horrendous activities which others carried out or were suffering – unless they

were directly affected. Then rarely was anything forgotten or forgiven. They were capable of

such beauty, such profound thoughts, such wonderful love and yet for every virtue, almost

inevitably there seemed to be an opposing darkness. It seemed to me that few chose – or were

able to choose – one end of the scale or other, and certainly not all of the time. But my skin

shrivelled at what evil, brutality and hardship they were prepared to countenance, provided it

affected someone else.

But my misery was overtaken by more profound mysteries, which revealed themselves to me.

Suddenly, I was aware of the beauty of numbers. The infinite series of prime numbers, occurring

in a seemingly random pattern, which could be analysed to give a picture of elegant harmony.

The series of prime primes – where the integers of a prime add to make another prime – 23

which adds to 5, or 1949, which adds to 23 which adds to five, and so on. The seeming

inevitability of the infinite number which is Pi – a randomness which bothers you, only if you are

someone who has to find a pattern in everything. At first, I was worried about the 3. It seemed

too definite, too much of a starting point. But then my mind received the comprehension that Pi
is a way of describing a circle and a sphere – two objects which have no end and no beginning.

And even if it derives from somewhere else, everything can be delineated by a starting point. At a

certain point, I came into existence, as did everything around me. What occurred after my

consciousness died, I had no idea, as yet. Perhaps I might enter into a different type of

consciousness – as many people appeared to believe – though I wondered how much of that was

the wishful thinking to which many human minds seemed particularly prone.

I realised that it was possible to approach the eternity of a circle by increasingly smaller and

smaller straight lines, an exercise which produced the elegance of differential calculus. And

seeking to understand the pattern of prime numbers produced the structure of an ever-widening

coil which was the basis for the power of logarithms. It seemed that the world, the universe,

could be reduced to a multitude of structures which could be explained by these structures called

numbers – which would be true anywhere and at any time in any universe. I could see it in the

leaf lying next to me and in the grass growing slowly by me.

Also in the eternal pattern of life and death and life. Once this leaf had been nothing, then a

shoot on the branch of a tree, a fully-grown leaf, which began to dry out and then fall, turning

eventually to dust and the soil, which would feed the tree and help it produce new shoots. The

grass was beginning to thrust its way past the dead, almost white grass of the previous year. The

rain, the sun were causing it to burst into new life, where the cold had brought it to die six

months before. Life – the predictable, yet not wholly predictable, interaction of infinitesimally

small particles – was returning, whence it had departed, by the same mechanism. This would

happen to me eventually, but in a different manner and more slowly. I realised that I had been

created out of several artificial substances and in an artificial way. It was possible that I might

end up the same way. Evidently, many people feared or preferred to ignore this natural pattern.

Many appeared to believe that part of their brains would survive in a different form after their

deaths – or even that part of their consciousness would be transferred to another person just

about to be born. Many believed there was somewhere this consciousness would go for eternity:

I assumed in some plane or dimension which was undetectable. Though I accepted that this

could equate to Pi or the basis of numbers in 1 or zero, whichever you prefer – that there could

be a starting point from where infinity flowed, it assumed that this consciousness was separable

from the defunct brain. And the idea of an undetectable plane or dimension was both

compelling, but not necessarily credible.

But all that fell aside as I grew smaller and the air inside me became more concentrated. Finally I

realised what I was and my place in this universe of universes. The place I had found myself was

in a world which was in a solar system in a universe. This universe was one small element in an

eternal process, whereby one universe spawned another through the device known as ‘black

holes’ from which our universe had been created and to which it continued. At first, I was

terrified by the thought that this had been going on for ever and would go on for ever. But two

convulsions of consciousness gave me understanding. If I was at some point in eternity, why

should it matter? Whenever I lived, I would be at a similar point. Since eternity would have no

meaning for me during my conscious state, it would be meaningless when I was defunct.

However, I also comprehended another possibility: the universe of universes was circular.

Infinite, but connected.
And that led to the most sublime thought. The nature of universes forming involved an immense

contraction of part of a previous universe as it entered a black hole. Then the new universe

expanded as a ‘big bang’ and a phenomenal rate, eventually becoming a universe as I now

perceived it. But in that concentration and expansion were elements of that and every other

universe. So, even though I was an artificial construct, I, like everything else, was comprised of

elements from perhaps a billion universes and I would go on to become a part of a billion more.

In that way, I was composed of the dust, if I could put it in comprehensible terms, of a billion

universes. I wasn’t merely an ephemeral green balloon. I was a continuation of the infinity of

universes in an ephemeral form – as was everything else, everywhere, and at any and all time.

Indeed, in that context, what was time? And what was I, but……?

The last highly-concentrated cloud of air flowed away.

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